


The Last Ones

by Lady_Elwing



Category: Charloe - Fandom, Revolution (TV)
Genre: AU Charloe, Charlie and Bass against the world, F/M, Revolution comics, charloe - Freeform, set after the last comic, still so fucking angry at this ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:04:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Elwing/pseuds/Lady_Elwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is set right after the last comics. Bass has found his way back to the US and Charlie is looking for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Ones

Sometimes, he wondered why he was still alive. He had more white hair than fucking Santa. His rage fueled by Connor’s death had lead him through the Americas, leaving a trail of blood behind him. In the end, all he knew how to do was killing. Killing to stay alive, not that he cared about his own life. Killing because there wasn’t anything else left to do. Death was everywhere.  
  
    Evenings like this one, when the sky was ablaze with stars, he would remember those vigils kept with Miles so long ago, in the mountains of Afghanistan or in the post blackout United States. Whatever happened to his brother. Some part of himself had begged to stay with his only family: Charlie and Miles. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t care anymore. Connor was dead, they were all dead. Miles had Charlie and he had no one. Not even Miles.  
    It was too late anyways. These last few weeks he had notice a strange stillness in the air. Like the world had lost something or someone… Or was it him that had lost his last family?  
    He got up from his bedroll  and took a few steps around his campfire. Sitting for too long made hi legs hurt. Arthritis? Old age was creeping in. But he wasn’t doing so bad, considering all this long life he was cursed with.  
    He tried suicide missions. But the same curse that had made him lose him family over and over again, was keeping him alive and breathing. A few cuts, bruises and wounds. His heart would still be beating in the end, his mind still thinking.  
    He couldn’t take his own life, he was Sebastian Monroe for fuck’s sake. But nights like this one, he was plagued by too many memories. He shouldn’t have left.  
  
    He turned his head sharply, he could feel someone’s gaze on him. His hearing was still good enough to hear those steps. And his mind was still alert enough to recognize who it was. Once a marine, always a marine.  
    “Charlotte.“  She didn’t answer. She barely acknowledged him as she brushed past him, to warm her hands over the fire. Her shoulder brushing against his arm made him jolt. She was really here. Her face was lined but she had that same spark that had always made him want to stare at her forever.  
    “What a disappointment. I was expecting armies, warm water and a bed.“ Was it his imagination or he saw the tip of her tongue wetting her lips.  
    “Good to see you too, brat.“  He sat down next to her. He didn’t need to ask, she didn’t need to answer. Just a share look. He nodded and her hand brushed his.  
  
    They didn’t speak again until a few hours. After so many lonely years, it was strange to have someone next to him. Her every breaths were louder than screams. He had lost interest in humans altogether but Charlie was mesmerizing. His gaze kept on wandering from the stars to her face, and twinkling eyes. Miles was gone. Charlie was still here, alive and far quieter than her younger version. He had to admit he missed her snark. But the night was too silent to get a rise out of her. It was like their vigil for his fallen brother.  
  
    After a while, she dug a piece of bread out of her bag, and took a bite.  
    “Want some?“ He didn’t answer. He couldn’t speak yet. The day he left, after having held his dead son in his arms, nothing but pure rage had been coursing through his veins. No thoughts, no other feeling, nothing else prevailed. Once he was gone, there was no turning point. And it’s not like Miles left any trail to follow. Maybe he had? But Bass had waited years before he had decided to come back to the United States. It had taken him years to fall out of this murdering haze and into a quiet numbness. But Miles was gone, and Charlie was here.  
    “He talked about you when he was…. He even named his son Sebastian.“  
    “Son?“ Trust Miles to mock him from the grave. So that lucky bastard had not only Charlie, who was worth thousands, but also a son. Charlie told him about the kid and the woman that Miles had left behind. The Butcher of Baltimore’s life had ended in the most boring way: cosy in his bed with his family all around him and a drink on his lips. So much for his usual swag.  
  
    Talking about Miles called for a drink. Bass found a bottle of moonshine he had stolen from a bar. He took a swig and passed it to Charlie. She sounded hoarse. After a few sips, she told him about her long journey to find him. It was strange that in the end, it was pure luck that had made their paths cross. She had heard rumors about the ghost of General Monroe roaming through Philly and followed this lead.  
    “All this to prove that you’re a good tracker?“  
    “Please, this was way too easy… Actually, I have something for you.“ She handed him Miles’ dog tags. His hand gripped them, embedding the embossed words in his palm. Miles was really gone this time. And it surprised him that something in him, cared. Of course, his heart had skipped a beat when Charlie had communicated the news but this was tangible. His brother in arms, his brother of blood was gone. And he, Sebastian Monroe, was still here. No matter how hard he had tried, he was still here. He bit back the thoughts that were threatening to spill out of his eyes and kept his gaze on that force of nature.  
    “Why are you really here Charlotte?“  
    “Where else should I go? They’re all gone. We’re the last ones. Though, you’re not getting any younger old man.“ He had missed that smile and those eyes glittering in the grey light of dawn.  
    “An old man that could still beat your ass.“ He shot her a long hard look. She shrugged.  
    “I’d like to see you try.“ Her mocking voice made a smile spread on his face. How long had it been since he had last smiled? It was almost painful.      
    “What about that kid… Your brother?“ His voice was hesitant. He wanted the truth but he didn’t want her to run back to her flesh and blood, leaving him here. Who could ever forget Charlie Matheson’s dedication for keeping her little brother Danny safe? for her family? Why shouldn’t she do the same for this brother? She offered him a broken smile. She probably knew that he was thinking about Danny.  
    “He deserves a happy normal life with his mom. He doesn’t need his creepy old sister who tells him horrible stories about the past. I’m too fucked up for this.“  
  
    The sun was blinding them, and soon it would be too hot. Bass picked up his stuff.  
    “Where are we going?“ Charlie asked. Bass shrugged as he zipped up his bag.  
    “Some place dark where we can drink. And then… there are plenty of leftover patriots if you need to blow off some steam.“ His bag was by his feet as he turned to face her. He took a step towards her, his arms brushing hers, his breath on her face.  
    “That is, if this is what you really came here for.“ There was a sharp intake of breath but she didn’t flinch or move, her eyes burning into his. Her lips brushed his but she took a step back.  
    “Let’s get moving old man.“ There was no doubt that all grown up Charlie Matheson was still calling the shots but General Monroe had definitely retired. He followed her wordlessly. Of course, he knew the area better than her, and knew where they could find a bar, but he couldn’t wait for her to get them lost. He couldn’t wait to see a huffing and puffing Charlotte following him as he led them on the right direction. Her brisk steps and thick mane were enough to bring him back to all those battles fought together and their lonely road trip to Willoughby. As if all those years had slipped away, and he was following Miles’ sinfully alluring daughter to find his brother. As if, he hadn’t wasted all those years in emptiness and rage. He hadn’t lost everything. Miles was still here in Charlie’s every step and words, and she was enough to fill an entire lifetime.  
  
    It had taken so many deaths and years for Charlie to finally come and find him. And it was only when they were the last ones left that he had decided to follow her. He wasn’t a superstitious man, and far from getting lost in dreams and premonition, and yet, that day she had stood in front of a loaded gun, he had known it would end this way.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This has been written right after I read the last comic. I was very disappointed with what they did to Bass (and Miles as usually, hailed as a hero) and all that character building going to hell. I hope I didn't leave too many mistakes but I needed Charlie and Bass to find each other. I know that since Miles is dead, there's a very high probability that Bass is too. But I think it's Bass' curse that he survived everything bad that happened to him. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
